Saturday, January 28, 2012

Scene of the Crime

In yet another year when it's said the world
will end again, the sky's red before
the snow and ice come. It seeks me,
this world with its blood and cold.
On days when I don't know
the meaning of words, they
remind me in frozen rain
at my doorstep how
brittle and bare I am.

Mommy babble rouser,
tracer of shadows between dew
drop and bird on the wire,
self lost in fog because it mimes
the shape that you itself becomes;
you, self, the one with the belly button
that collects yesterday's sloughed skin
and fibers from the scene
of the sin that's existence,
mirror the self pining for its own loss.

Clothe ecstatic bones and unveil the nature
of desire. In the bed made and unmade 1000 times
1000 times, touch the tail of a comet riding stars.
There's no cure for chaos, just a chance to find a point.
The wild wind will stir the past alive today
and wake you, pulled apart and glued together,
praising life and its emptied sky.

How many wires and cords
must I uncross to make the universe right?
Tangled clot of verbs, nouns, and world,
dare to wear the mark of the slave,
bearing its shame, nothing thing, blown
scrap by winter wind on bright days
rousing sleep from your eyes.
So shall it be always here.

(c) copyright 2012 Charles David Miller. All right reserved.

15 comments:

  1. " How many wires and cords
    must I uncross to make the universe right? "

    Now that is a question I want to know the answer to.

    And, you've got to be kidding, someone is predicting the earth will end THIS year too?

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  2. I feel it and hope you can come out of it.

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  3. i am afraid this one may be a gordian knot, the only answer to cut it down the middle...mary a lot of people have made that prediction...it will be interesting come the end of this year to see how people respond...esp in light of Y2K...def will be interesting...nice verse as well charles...

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  4. Those first and third stanzas just blew me away, Charles. Such a sense of being calmly lost in the eye of a hurricane spanning all space and time, eating planets, eating selves, hanging on one like a too-big suit, yet finding something there, the dot, perhaps, that forces chaos to go around it. The fog and shape lines were also excellent. Fine poem.

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  5. There's no cure for chaos, just a chance to find a point... this line has me under a spell. The whole piece is amazing, Charles.

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  6. To be tied in knots and unraveling it can be a real bother. but it is lesson learnt when we are through with it. Great verse!

    Hank

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  7. We are brittle and bare if this world should end...be it at our hand or mother natures but we go on...as we do! Interesting poem filled with questions and mystery.

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  8. i so can feel this charles...

    ...On days when I don't know
    the meaning of words, they
    remind me in frozen rain
    at my doorstep how
    brittle and bare I am...

    and then the wire and cords question and the tangled clots of verbs, nouns and worldHow many wires
    dare wearing the mark of the slave... tight and deep with meaning..

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  9. Packed, deft-- a powerful poem! I especially loved:

    Clothe ecstatic bones and unveil the nature
    of desire. In the bed made and unmade 1000 times
    1000 times, touch the tail of a comet riding stars.

    Whatever my "poeticisms" might have been, as in criticism of the poetics challenge--I do stand by the statement and the person who made it was not offended... xj

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  10. Ah, the rapture....and forever waiting. I do like much the notion of finding a point in chaos. There are other intriguing and original piece of imagry here. You never fail, Chazzy, in your choice of subject or words. Intersting work here :))

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  11. Love the fire and words brimming from your pen today. Another world ending prediction will not make a dent in our messy and sorry lives.

    Great take on the prompt ~

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  12. very powerful, meaningful write ...thank you for sharing x

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  13. How many wires and cords
    must I uncross to make the universe right?...is this not exactly what we attempt with our words? Charles, this particular piece spoke directly to my heart. You must be the master of "cold" imagery...you are able, with perfectly weaved combinations,to bring a chill to my veins...yours are writes that make me question the existence of everything...not just myself...and to be able to write that selfishness out of me, is a great feat indeed. Loved what was prompted from your pen!

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  14. what a whirlwind of imagery and philisophical ponderings. Thanks, Charles.

    Sheila

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  15. It is a mission writers and thinkers perhaps share, this uncrossing wires only to come up brittle and bare. Lovely write.

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